That'll Make You Want To Drink
by Ireland23
Summary: I just love a crotchety, yet head-over-paws for Rachel, Paul. Don't you?       "Paul scowled. Imprinting. Really! It was his least favorite part of this whole 'I'm a big bad wolf' deal. But, admittedly,that deal, was pretty effin' cool". Chapter 2 updated
1. She doesn't hate you, much

_**Hey y'all. I've changed the timeline of the books, but everything is explained so it shouldn't be too difficult to follow along :)**_

Chapter One: She doesn't hate you…_much_.

Paul watched her. He just leaned against the tree and blatantly stared as she scampered around the bonfire, helping her brother Jacob get ready for the council meeting. Paul's brows knitted and a scowl was fixed upon his undeniably handsome face. Rachel hated him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

It wasn't his fault that she was the biggest prude on the rez and that he had developed somewhat of a –uh…- _reputation_ as a ladies man.

And it certainly wasn't his fault that she'd come home from college and he'd been unlucky enough to imprint on her. Paul scowled at the thought. Imprinting. Really! It was his least favorite part of this whole 'I'm a big bad wolf' deal.

But, admittedly, that deal, was pretty fucking cool.

He was one of the most sought after boys on the rez. Like the rest of the pack, he had girls lining up to submit to any sexual fantasy he proposed. When the aforementioned ladies became clingy or used the 'f' word that did not end with 'uck' –yes, some of them had the audacity to actually mention the future-he had the option to toss a 'sorry 'boutcha' over his finely muscled shoulder. He had the ability to phase into a magnificent wolf and hide out until they understood that he was a lone wolf. He rambled to his choice of destination with nothing holding him back, save the nights he was on patrol.

Really though, could he be blamed? A fine specimen of man that was Paul, couldn't actually be expected to be tied down to one woman, could he?

Paul huffed as his eyes roved over the surely soft expanse of her lower back that peeked out from beneath her tank top as she leaned over the fire. He felt a low growl rumble in his chest and his hands clenched in the soft tufts of grass where he sat.

His breath came out in short, angry puffs, but he couldn't look away from her lithe form. He didn't _want_ to want her, but he couldn't seem to sate his need for her body to be pressed sinuously against his own. He'd imprinted a week ago-seven agonizing days-and he'd barely been holding on.

Not that his absence was any skin off of Rachel's back. She'd made it perfectly clear what she thought of Paul and his ungentlemanly, late night _discrepancies._

"Still haven't given in yet?" Quil smirked, taking a seat next to the hothead of his pack.

Paul snarled and then sucked in a sharp breath as Rachel leaned down, ruffling Seth's hair in a sisterly way as she passed by. His head turned to the left, following her slowly disappearing form and it wasn't until she was out of his line of vision that he let the air whoosh out of his lungs.

"I'll take that as a tentative maybe." Quil chortled, loving the fact that he finally had something for which he could legitimately razz on Paul.

"Shut the fuck up." Paul barked, his nose curling up in distaste. The intense pain of seeing her and not being allowed the comfort of running his needy hands over her silken skin had depleted somewhat with her absence. Oh, but the aching burn resonating in his chest just wouldn't waver. "I'm doing _just_ fine."

"Mmhmm." Quil placated his buddy, slapping him on the back to let him know he understood his pain. "At least you don't have to wait an insurmountable amount of time before Rachel is eighteen." Quil bobbed his brows in an effort to lighten the other pack member's fierce mood. Quil was purely joking. He loved Claire more than life itself and he would wait for her to mature into the woman that he'd someday marry, but for now, he was content nurturing her.

"Wouldn't matter if she was a hundred and eighteen." The cynical tone Paul sniped out didn't do much to cover the angst that laced his words. His heart was actually _hurting_.

And that fucking pissed him off.

"She doesn't hate you…" Quil started and the paused for a brief moment before he finished his thought. "…_much_." He added with a smirk.

And all Paul could do was growl.

"Come on man, you guys were best friends…" Quil began slowly, but quickly clammed up when Paul snarled.

"Yeah, in middle school." Paul clipped out, pushing himself up off the ground and bracing himself against the tree trunk which Quil was still lazily lounging against. "And then she became a royal bitch." Even as the surly word left his lips, his chest constricted as if his body was punishing him for dishonoring his intended mate.

"_Or_ you ditched her for your misogynistic ways." Quil quirked out and he sounded just a tad bit nerdy for a raging Adonis like creature.

"I didn't fucking ditch her." Paul rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. He relished in finally having the ability to breathe clearly, but that damn tugging in his chest wouldn't quit. "She's two years older than me and she didn't want a _boy_ tagging along with her and her high school friends, _bitch_." He spat the slur at his friend, knowing full well Quil wouldn't be offended. After all, it wasn't the worst thing he'd been called. "I did my own thing and she's obviously fine with that."

"What you need is…" Quil was about to bestow a hefty does of reality on his brooding friend when Paul jabbed an angry finger toward him.

"What I need is a stiff drink and a cold shower." Paul spat, raking a rough palm through his black as night mane.

"She was _all _about you and you know it." Quil gave a dismissive wave, standing up and preparing to walk down to the bonfire. "Don't bite my head off because you fucked up four years ago and now you can't get your imprint in your bed, buddy."

Paul harrumphed at Quil's lighthearted jab and then called after him as the other boy strode away. "I'll bite your head off whenever I God damn please!"

Another dismissive wave and Quil settled by the bonfire with a giggling Claire snuggling sleepily in his lap. Paul took in the sight before him. Sam gently caressed the side of Emily's face as they waited for Billy to begin the storytelling. Across the circle sat a blissful Jared, who even in human form seemed to be relishing, in wolf-like glory, snuggling against his imprint, Kim.

Normally Paul would have been up front and center, cracking jokes about his pussy-whipped packmates, but tonight was different. Tonight he felt a longing that he wasn't sure could ever be sated. As much as he willed his mind to abhor the thought, he unconsciously clenched his fist against his t-shirt covered chest. He wanted to be up front and center during Billy's stories alright, but he wanted Rachel with him.

He wanted to feel the full weight of her luscious body pressed back against his chest while they listened to Billy's wise words. He wanted to trail his fingertips down her lean arms as he buried his nose against her sweetly scented neck. He wanted to scrape his teeth along her shoulder and nip-not too roughly- just enough to let her know what he'd have in store for her when he finally had her alone. He wanted to mark her. He had the primal, irrevocable need to ensure no other man would ever mistake her as anything but his.

But that wasn't in the cards and Paul knew that. It was the damn imprint talking. He didn't want those things. Sure, he'd had a crush on Rachel back when he was in 8th grade, but when she'd moved on to high school, he'd moved on with his life too. Or he'd tried anyway. He'd gone through more girls by the 10th grade than most boys see in a lifetime. However, none of them seemed to do anything for him other than give him a tremendous headache with all their incessant bitching.

Their smiles weren't sweet like Rachel's. Their hair wasn't quite as smooth and their skin not as silky.

But that was the fucking imprint talking, Paul rationalized even though he was in a terribly irrational mood.

When Rachel showed her face again, tiptoeing around Billy's audience to find a seat, Paul lost it.

He wanted her so much that his chest was heaving and his shorts were uncomfortably tight.

He gave her one last fleeting glance and he cursed as she looked up, her gazed meeting his heated glare. That was the fucking imprint too, the connection he felt with her.

Or was it the bond he shared with her as a child, pleading with them to make amends?

Paul didn't care. He wasn't going to be another pack statistic and have his destiny chosen for him.

He was Paul- the fuckin' man. He did as he pleased.

He tore his eyes from her delectable body and took off into the woods. An agonized growl permeated from his chest as he leaped, phased and dashed off into the unforgiving night.

_**It's 2:00 AM, so I'm feeling sleep deprived and loopy…**_

_**Is this worth continuing? I've always liked Paul for some reason (Maybe it's my soft spot for misunderstood bad boys? Who knows. Hehe). I hope I haven't gone too OOC on anyone so far, but I do tend to alter the characters to my liking *cue evil laugh* Muuahahaha *grins***_

_**The M rating is for naughty wolf language and future lemony goodness, if I continue.**_

_**Suggestions? Insights? Anything you want to happen? Let me know!:) **_


	2. We Can Do Whatever the Hell We Want

_**My computer crashed a few days ago and I lost all of my files. Along with that, my word processor dictionary was completely wiped out. So, I'm doing all the editing by eye…I apologize for any errors!**_

_**This chapter contains sexual material…fair warning :)**_

_**Oh, and thank you guys for such lovely reviews! :)**_

Another week passed and if you asked the rest of the pack, Paul was even less desirable to be around. He was moody, crotchety, grumpy and any other synonym you could think of. Rachel was the only thing on his mind and if he was honest, she was the only thing tugging on his heart too.

Rachel wasn't having the best two weeks of her life either. She'd been so elated to finally come home from school and get away from all of the agonizing drama that had ensued there. She was glad that everyone in La Push had finally stopped inquiring about her sudden departure from school. Her friends and family, specifically her baby bother Jake, were happy to have her home, it seemed.

If everything she had endured at school hadn't been enough, now she had to deal with Paul and the dreaded imprint. Rachel had known about the wolf pack and the intricacies of their new lives for a while. Billy and Jake had been wonderful about keeping her updated, but she wasn't prepared to become an imprintee. And she _really_ didn't expect Paul to be the one to imprint on her. Embry? Sure, he was a nice kid. Jared even had redeemable qualities if you could look past the fact that he acted like a toddler most of the time. A well over six foot, muscular …toddler.

Paul, though, he had very few qualities that were tolerable, let alone redeemable. Rachel huffed as she stomped around the grassy backyard of her father's home. If Paul was so wretched, why couldn't she get him off of her mind? Jake had told her that because Paul had imprinted on her, her emotions would be akin to his.

So this aching in her chest, the longing for his touch, was he feeling those same emotions? She wondered.

"Can't sleep?" Paul's silky voice caused goose-bumps to form on her arms and legs. She turned toward the wooded area behind the house and watched as he stepped toward her. The moonlight cast a becoming glow on his cinnamon colored skin. He was only wearing a pair of those ratty cutoff jeans that she hated. He must have just phased back into human form, she supposed.

"I can sleep just fine." She retorted, turning away from him. She couldn't look at the masculine contours of his chest and stomach. The way his lean hips tapered down into the hard lines of a delicious V that disappeared beneath those horrid shorts. She wouldn't be able to control herself and the way he was looking at her made it blatantly obvious that he didn't have much control left either.

"You're outside at three in the morning because you can sleep just fine?" He taunted her and followed his words with a raspy growl. The way the noise rumbled in his chest as he stood just a few inches behind her, made the butterflies in her stomach go rampage. "Well, that seems perfectly _logical_." The teasing his tone of his voice did nothing to hide the raw sensual haze that was swirling around them.

"What do you want, Paul?" Rachel bit out, sucking in a sharp breath. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest and she could feel the spurts of his irregular breathing puffing against the back of her long dark hair.

"Isn't it obvious?" He tried to sound annoyed, but in reality he was so utterly smitten by her. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her skin. He loved the way her thin cotton night dress clung to her curves, the ones that were in all the right places. His fingers ached to reach out and caress the soft skin of her lean arms. He wanted to brush her hair back and latch his lips onto the succulent skin of her neck while his greedy hands explored the entire expanse of her body.

"Paul, you hate this whole imprint thing as much as I do and…" She turned to face him and immediately halted her speech when she saw the way his eyes were boring into hers. He looked absolutely lethal, but she wasn't afraid of him. She could still see a flicker of the boy who was once her best friend beneath the testosterone, muscles and cocky attitude.

"Yeah, we both hate it, but you need this as much as I do." He bit out and stepped closer. He didn't touch her with his hands, he wasn't sure he could control himself if he did. Instead, his searing chest brushed against her dress. His body shook from the contact and he groaned when he felt her nipples harden against him. "You ache for me, Rach." The way her name rolled off of his tongue reminded her of how he spoke to her when they were young. "Don't pretend that you don't." She couldn't deny what he'd said. She did ache for him and he elicited responses from her that no other man had ever been capable of.

"Paul, we can't…" She gasped when his large arms encircled her small body. His hands slid sinuously down her back and gripped her ass, pulling her against him. She couldn't control the moan that escaped her lips as she felt his hardness pressing against her stomach. She could feel his burning heat even through his jeans and her gown.

"We can do whatever the hell we want." He growled, trying to remember to be gentle. She wasn't like him, she couldn't handle such intensity. He leaned down, nudging her to look up at him with the side of his face. He whimpered when her eyes met his. All of the emotions swirling around in her eyes hit him at once. He had the overwhelming need to right everything wrong in her life.

His lips crashed against hers in the most intense kiss either of them had ever experienced. He deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking against hers as her arms wrapped around his neck. His hands gripped her ass tighter and her fingers wove through his thick hair.

Instinctively, he hoisted her up and he tore his lips from hers. He hissed in pleasure as her legs wrapped snuggly around his hips. It was as if her body was actually _made_ to fit with his. His lips moved to her neck and then trailed up to her earlobe. He nipped her skin and then panted against her ear. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream my name." His raspy voice brought her out of the sensual fog she was trapped in.

He felt her stiffen in his embrace and then push on his chest. "Let me down. Let me go. I need…stop…please stop." He felt panic rush through his whole body and he knew immediately that it was her emotions that he was feeling.

He gingerly let her go, his chest puffing in untamed arousal. "What the hell, Rachel?"

"I-…we can't…I just…" She was backing away from him and his chest constricted. He _needed_ her and not just in the obvious sexual sense. The loss of her supple warmth had him nearly howling in pain.

"You can't run away from this Rachel." He jammed his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep from grabbing her and showing her just how much they needed each other. "It's not going away. We're just hurting each other by fighting it." He took a step closer, but halted when she stepped backward.

"Paul…"

"Look, just because we fought four fucking years ago…" His voice was angry, but his eyes didn't match the rough tone. He was irritable, frustrated and didn't want to be so dependant on this girl who had been making him feel _very_ dependant since he was a young boy. "I'm out of here. It's not my fucking fault you're such a God damned, frigid bitch." He flinched at his own words, feeling her emotions. An intense feeling of hatred overcame him, but when he looked in her eyes, he knew it wasn't her emotion he was feeling just then.

He hated himself for what he'd said to her.

She just nodded slowly, unable to keep her tears from falling any longer. She straightened her night dress and turned to walk up to her father's house.

Paul covered his face with his hands and took a deep breath. He felt like his heart was literally being ripped out of his chest. He felt moisture pooling in his eyes and he softly murmured her name.

He walked toward the wooded acreage and didn't bother phasing. He didn't need to. It wasn't the imprint making him feel this way. The familiar agony that coursed through his body wasn't foreign to him. For years ago he'd felt the same way when they'd severed their friendship.

Now, more than ever, he needed that stiff drink.

_**Rachel's reaction to Paul will be explained in the next few chapters :)**_


End file.
